


Platoon 17

by eugene6022



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, War, Wizarding Wars, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eugene6022/pseuds/eugene6022
Summary: Platoon 17 isn't a place for the best and brightest the ministry has to offer. It's a place for the rejects, the misfits, the ones they don't trust, the people on their side that they would rather dispose of quietly. They are there as cannon fodder, not to survive. But Remus Lupin is determined to see this war through. But when he finds love and belonging, it seems impossible that all of them will make it.





	Platoon 17

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoy Platoon 17 as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

The commander didn't immediately assert herself. For ten minutes while they all settled down, she sat up front reading a large book entitled "Simple Hexes and Their History." The men and woman of Remus's platoon greeted the people they knew and ignored unfamiliar faces. Remus was ignored. It was a time of war, and anyone who didn't share your blood was none of your concern.

Finally, the commander stood. Platoon 17 did not quiet, and hardly seemed to notice.

"Silencio!" she called. Mouths continued to move for a second, but their owners halted their foolish movement when they realized that sounds had been ripped from their throats.

Some of the soldiers glared at their commander. Immediately, it was obvious why she was in charge of platoon 17, the lowest of the low. Jinxing someone into silence was akin to barging into someone's house without asking.

"Thank you," the commander said, her voice sweet now. "I am Commander Evans. You may call me Commander Evans only. And you are my soldiers."

She paused here, her gaze lingering on each of them for a second, analyzing them. Remus saw her eyes flit to the registration number on his arm. He had to have it in clear view by the law of the ministry.

"You all are..." she paused here and her mouth curled. "The worst of the worst."

A man with messy hair and glasses let out a surprised shout of laughter, which seemed to break the silencing charm, although no one else made a sound. Commander Evans ignored him.

"The ministry wants you dead. But they can't spare energy killing you, so they sent you here, to platoon 17. This is your execution. Welcome. It will be painful. You will accomplish nothing except to shield wizards and witches the ministry deems acceptable, honorable members of society."

Someone made a whimpering sound, but Remus felt nothing. He wouldn't die. There was no need to mourn himself.

Remus met Commander Evan's green eyes. He held her stare and tried to communicate defiance through their stare. Evans smirked widely.

"But the werewolf seems to have doubts. Think you're different?" Evans sneered.

In school, Remus would have turned red and muttered a "no ma'am" but this was not school. This was the real world. This was life or death, and Remus sure as hell wasn't choosing death.

"Yes, I  _do_  think I'm different," Remus said, mustering all his bravado.

"You will be put against the worst of the worst. Dementors, giants, death eaters, maybe even Voldemort himself."

Remus refused to be impressed that she used the name. "Ten galleons says I survive."

A bark of laughter sounded. It was a handsome, dark-haired man to the left of the one in glasses.

"Tell you what,  _werewolf_ ," The word held an abnormally high amount of vindictive cruelty. "If you survive and I also survive, I'll give you 100 galleons."

Remus's eyes widened. It had been a joke. But if he had the opportunity to actually earn 100 galleons... "If I get it in writing, you're on," Remus shouted over the snickers of laughter.

The handsome man only snorted and turned away. "I don't think I need protecting by a werewolf, thank you very much. You'd probably maul me in my sleep when you get hungry."

Remus went still and glared at the bigot. "I don't think you'll live long enough to sleep. I'm sure some death eaters will take care of you."

"Enough," Evans called before the stupid man could retort. "As I was saying, they don't care about your lives. So there is no training period. Tomorrow, we take a portkey to Albania onto the front lines."

On their way out the door, both the man with glasses and his friend shoved Remus so he stumbled slightly. 

\----------------------------

The portkey was a soda bottle poised like a prized possession in the middle of the stone table in the departure chamber of the ministry. Remus shared a portkey with Alice and Frank Longbottom, a young married couple, and a fat wizard called Peter Pettigrew. Potter, the glasses asshole, and Black, the model asshole, shared a paperback portkey with Commander Evans.

The departure witch chewed her Droobles Best Blowing Gum with little ticking-noises and checked her watch.

"Hands on. departure in 10,9,8..." she said in a monotone.

Remus touched a finger to the can. Peter was shaking so badly, he had to actually grasp the can to keep a hold. Frank and Alice were holding their free hands.

"...3, 2, 1."

A jerking sensation behind his navel. Spinning, and then a shout of, "Avadacadavra!" Remus ducked, luckily pulling Pettigrew down with him, otherwise, the fat man would have died in his first second of battle.

Immediately, Remus stepped into action. "Stupefy! Stupefy!" They were in a forest, and faint figures kept darting behind trees.

The red light from Remus's stunning spells lit the clearing and Remus saw one shadow fall. Remus untangled himself from Peter and sprinted behind a large oak. He cast a disillusionment charm and felt as though an egg had broken over his head. He looked down at his body and only saw the bark of the oak tree. Slowly, giving the camouflage time to react to his movements, he sidled around the tree.

Inhale, "Stupefy!" his spell hit. Exhale.

Inhale, "Petrificus totalus!" hit. Exhale.

Over and over, Remus took down death eaters. He moved between each attack, never giving the death eaters a moment to counter-attack to where the spell had come from. Remus even caught himself smiling once or twice.

Then, Remus heard a yell. Of course, there were hundreds of screams and shouts of all varieties. The whole morning was practically screaming. But this yell sent chills down his spine. This was a scream of one hit by the cruciatus curse. The battle was so fast that there shouldn't have been time to cast anything that didn't permanently incapacitate the enemy. Anyone who was using the cruciatus curse was either unusually sadistic or skilled enough in battle to spare time for torture. Maybe both, Remus considered as he reeled toward the sound.

It was Sirius Black. He was convulsing and screaming on the forest floor as a woman with disheveled hair and aristocratic cheekbones pointed her wand daintily at him. She was laughing. Not maniacally, but genuinely shuddering with laughter. Remus felt sick. He had no love for Sirius Black, but this woman was sick.

He raised his wand slowly. With the disillusionment charm, his wand appeared to float in mid-air. He knew he should use a killing curse. This laughing woman was evil and dangerous. The words were half-formed when he realized he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill when his life wasn't even in danger.

"Av--stupefy."

The jet from his wand tip was flimsy and a weak shade of red. Shotty spell casting, he could almost hear his father say. The woman barely stumbled before turning on Remus. The woman's eyes were dead, exactly what Remus imagined was under a Dementor's hood.

Now that Remus, the invisible force that had caused most of the death eater casualties, had revealed himself, it felt as though the collective attention of the death eater forces were focused on him. Spells--mostly green in color-- flew past him, but by sheer luck, Remus sprinted to avoid them. 

"We've got to use the portkey again. We'll get killed on the first day," Sirius panted over Remus's shoulder. Remus flinched; he hadn't realized that Sirius had escaped. He couldn't help resenting the man for being stupid enough that Remus had to save him. He almost wanted to remind Black of their bet, but he didn't have time or breath.

"Lupin," Commander Evans growled from somewhere. She must have disillusioned herself as well. "Black is right, we need to get out of here."

Remus could hear the jeers of the death eaters, only a few yards away, waiting to hunt down each member of platoon 17. He remembered the woman's dead eyes and the bloodthirst in some of their faces as they decimated the ministry's soldiers. He looked towards where Evans's voice had come from and shook his head once.

"Lupin!" Black and Evans hissed in unison as Remus sprinted away. He wasn't trying to be heroic, he was trying to kill. He felt as bloodthirsty as the most vicious death eater as he silently circled the momentarily confused enemy, casting spells along the way like dropped pebbles. After a quarter mile circumference, he ended back at Commander Evans and the rest of platoon 17, all in varying states of consciousness and injury. The Long-Bottoms were looking shell-shocked, but alive. Potter was holding his left hand in his right like an injured bird. Pettigrew was cowering behind Evans.

"You coward, running away like that. I don't know why you bothered coming back." Black snarled. Remus ignored him.

Remus allowed the disillusionment charm to fall from his head just by willing it. He lit his wand tip and the death eaters' eyes snapped to it like moths to a flame. He stared at them calmly. One of them shot a killing curse at platoon 17. Evans screamed, Potter dove to the ground, and the Longbottems held each other's hands and clenched their eyes shut. But the killing curse never hit its intended mark. It bounced off some invisible force and hit the caster square in the forehead. The death eaters watched their comrade fall, some in confusion, some in horror. Maybe they didn't believe that a pureblood could be killed.

"Remus Lupin," Evans warned, now pleading with him.

"Incendio," Remus said lazily. The flames from his wand ran around the death eaters in a large circle, the exact path that Remus had just run. They soared into the air, a dozen meters high. 

"Fiend fire," Alice Longbottom said in horror, backing away as a unit with her husband. The fiend fire encroached on the death eaters until they each stood with their backs to each other. The action made them look almost human. As Remus looked (Evans trying to pull him towards the portkey all the while) the enemy began to worry. All except the haughty, dead-eyed woman, who cocked her head to the side in something akin to respect. 

 

 


End file.
